Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Dear Purest Form Of Love,
Unkown to you, you have made a big mistake.
You have given me the impression that I wouldn't be taking too big a risk, if I expect a lot out of you.
Give me that stare, even if it means nothing.
Allow me to fool myself, that you understand.
Sincerely,
Sir.

With fresh dreams of one futile future,
the eye-balls raced beneath the sleeping lids;
the legs spread in a sprint,
across the world without a worry;
the arms clutched stuffed linen,
in one hold without a hurry.

Peace came knocking, and woke me up;
Whispered to my ears, it's time to be up.
I frowned and groaned,
Let me see some more, I said.
"Too much, already",
Exactly, as I dreaded.

And thus my eyes wrenched open,
welcomed the colourful darkness.
Sounds of the system serve a reminder of the real.
The debated desires in deconstruction, on;
a road with a memory and a story.
All washed away in the riot of lights,
My nights feel sorry.